As much as I hate question-asking engagement bait, what do you think about this?

It is the Tidbyt. It does a few things, and it does them in the old-style way. It costs almost $200. It provides you with the information you want without having to check your phone.

So we've gone from "dump the old dumb devices for your phone, which is always with you, close at hand, and provides information quickly in the application you prefer" to "ugh I am so tired of pulling out my phone and looking at it and then tapping on something to get the information." The low-res attitude is a bonus, an affectation, a retro twist that says you have respect for the old-school ways of yore.

It doesn't play music. It gives you sports scores and transit information. It has a suite of apps which extend its functionality:

You have to be kidding me. I mean, the 1982 shot of Venus from the Valera probe had better resolution. But it seems to have a particular intention: this harkens back to a simpler, and hence better day.

I'm waiting for Apple to release a HomePod with a screen. Because why not. I have an Echo, but use it exclusively as . . . a clock. Every day it suggests things I can do with it. Jokes. Games. Facts. Recipes. I ignore them all.

I wonder who uses these digital assistants these days. Such a marvel when they arrived. Why, by cracky, I remember when Amazon made these little plastic things branded with a particular product - soap, toilet paper - and a button. The Dash. You'd just press to reorder. Stick them up where you use the product, reorder when you're running now.

Seems like an excellent idea. What happened? Insufficient adoption to justify whatever infrastructure was necessary to support it? Made redundant by other products? Can't say, but here's a related development that I'm sure will quicken your pulse: I've set up about seven or eight recurring shipments of household items I used to buy at Target, simply because Target limits the self check-out to ten items. At first I bungled the replentishment date for the napkins, and there was a week that was like a paper-product version of The Sorceror's Apprentice. Fixed that. Now we have a delivery day that brings the paper products, shampoo, dish spap, and so on, at a lower price than Target.

Never would have considered it without the ten-item limit. The limit was the result of people abusing the trust implied by the self-checkout system. Or rather successfully abusing the trust. If they were stopped at the door and put in the back room until the cops come, things might be different, but of course I'm one of those crazy throwbacks who think there should be consequences for theft.

I know, I know, but just consider it.

I'm still chewing through a Hitchcock every day, from the start. A mixed bag but never stupid, and occasionally you pick up things about the culture of the time. The other night I saw one starring William Redfield, whose most famous role was in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. (He's on the left.) In his early days he specialized in a particular type: arch, dismissive, slightly cynical intellectual types. Sliding scale from morose smart guy to sociopath, although he was straight-ahead earnest and scientific in Fantastic Voyage. In his Hitchcock role he's a crook being transported on a train by a tired, good cop. He casually berates the cop for his morals and lack of money. You just absolutely hate him. But another plot, another director, and we'd be asked to be on his side, because he was clever and capable of charm. What made the episode good was the refusal to make him some sort of commentary on square-john life. For all his polish and sartorial sharpness, he was a heel. An empty soul.

Another archetype: the Disk Jockey. He is ca-rayyyy-zee, man, ca-rayy-aayy-zee

I might add that everyone he meets is not ca-ray-zee, man, but they are wild. It is possible they might even be gone. And I mean real gone.

The archetype of the 50s DJ is a fascinating thing, because whenever you see these guys on TV or hear them in a radio story, they behave the same whether they're on the air or not. The idea that it could be an act never seems to be an option.

What made me snip was the brief appearance of a guy who's with buidling security, or something, and brings our protagonist up to the studio.

Recognize him?

Now?

Now?

C'mon, this ought to do it.

It was his first TV role. From this, marvelous things.

It’s 1942. We’re back at the Minneapolis Times.

I’m not saying they oversold this, or made exaggerated claims about your emotional response, but whew:

None of the bitter, indigestible, splintery skin in this bread! It has the holy shine of SCIENCE

Let’s examine the copy.

HERE now is that utterly new and revolutionary kind of bread you have heard so much about. Different from any bread ever before known, many scientists believe it may influence profoundly the lives of millions. Because of its power to improve their physical and mental processes of life amazingly. For this new bread brings the treasure-trove of life-giving elements, the rich hoard of vitamins and minerals with all the wealth of flavor Mother Nature amassed in each bursting grain of sun-ripened wheat.

And, of the utmost importance, none of the bad outer, bitter, and indigestible, splintery “skin"!

Did we mention it doesn’t have indigestible, splintery skin?

Take this bread and LIVE AGAIN!

More of the copy:

A Mining Engineer Solves The Problem

Despite fortunes spent, no miller ever found, without losing precious vitamins and minerals, how to get rid of wheat's bad outer, bitter, and indigestible, splintery "skin." Then came « this epochal and far-reaching discovery.

In the "flotation" process, which separates the dross from the gold of the hills, Theodore Earle, mining engineer and inventive genius, at last found the clue toward separating the bad from the gold of the plains.

Actually, millions of people who now believe it their lot to feel "jittery," easily fagged out, may again experience the happiness of renewed vitality a more adequate diet provides.

Dude, it’s just bread.

The name - or rather, the obscurity of same - indicates it wasn’t a hit on the level of Wonder, which was made by the same outfit, Continental.

Again I ask: what is it about 33 and beer? I know, I know, the year of repeal. That’s what they say for Rolling Rock. This isn’t Rolling Rock

Let’s take a look at the comic adventures here.

33 beers blended into one? Isn’t that a bit excessive? Who could tell?

Really, when you’re selling beer, you don’t want people think of coffee. Let alone the combination of coffee and champagne.

The mystique survives in the brewery’s tasting room.

That'll do! See you around. Despite the picture below, we are not revisiting The Sweetheart of the Comics, but we're still in the Comic Sins site. Now it's old DC Heroes. Enjoy!